Day by Day
by Ziptango
Summary: Splinter is fading fast as Oraku Saki hits the turtle brothers hard at a weak time and in a weak place. They may never be able to put their shattered lives back to what it used to be.
1. Day 1

All usual disclaimers apply.   
Thanks for reading and please leave comments on your way out =) 

* * *

**Day by Day   
By Ziptango**

* * *

When you can no more hold me by the hand,   
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.   
Remember me when no more, day by day   
You tell me of the future that you planned;   
Only remember me; you understand   
It will be late to counsel then or pray.   
Yet if you should forget me for awhile   
And afterwards remember, do not grieve;   
For if the darkness and corruption leave   
A vestige of thoughts that once I had   
Better by far you should forget and smile   
Than you should remember and be sad. 

by Christina Rossetti 

* * *

A hint of salmon-pink softly highlighted the dark, lolling hills in the distance. Gradually it seeped higher and seemed to spill across the dim blue sky with rosy fingers. 

A large rat sat in quiet contentment among the tall reeds. At his feet, a fat creek sidled along lazily while mirroring the softening colors overhead. With the increasing warmth all around, his frosted gray-brown fur bristled in the freshness catching the newborn sun rays. The ground directly beneath him was also cool and pleasant. 

With calming strokes, he stirred the water on the bank with his walking stick. The hues swirled together like a puddle of melted sherbet ice-cream in the ripples. His eyes, however, remained forward and locked in a reverie as if gazing into the life of all things. 

Suddenly, a rock skimmed across the surface of the water with choppy splashes. On the opposite bank, the reeds parted and a mutant turtle flashed a Cheshire grin. 

"Morning Sensei!" the animated voice echoed loudly. 

"Good morning, Michaelangelo." Splinter allowed a tiny but genuine smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. 

"Wow, it's really nice out here." Mike puffed his chest out and exhaled dramatically. 

"It is," Splinter dipped his chin. Although he was mildly surprised, he didn't show it. 

In the pursuing silence, he waited for his son to reveal the purpose of this interruption. He didn't mind necessarily, but it was certainly a rare occurrence when the most boisterous of his sons sought him out this far from the farm house. He may have expected Leonardo, but this was peculiar indeed. 

Mike turned in circles admiring scenery, oblivious the rat's patient stare. 

"What is it you need, my son?" 

"Oh," Michaelangelo stopped and turn to him in awkward embarrassment, "We...uh...that is April..was wondering if you'd join us for breakfast today." 

He pondered this for a moment. Everyone knew he only preferred herbal tea in the morning. In that case, Mike's request was almost absurd. He could hardly remember the last time he had had a solid breakfast. 

Mike shuffled uncomfortably while wondering to himself how weird this must appear. 

"Very well," Splinter stood and brushed himself off. 

"Are you sure? It'll be- wait? What?" Mike looked at him with disbelief. 

"I will accompany you." 

"You will?" another infectious grin spread on Mike's face. 

"I wouldn't want to disappoint my hosts," Splinter smiled back. With amazing agility, the rat took a flying leap and landed neatly on other side of the creek. 

"Right!" Mike said deviously. 

Splinter continued forward, using his cane to split the tall grasses. His son fell into step beside him, and seemed to gloat in a personal triumph silently. Even that was odd, in that anything involving Michaelangelo was rarely quiet. 

All things considered, he had no doubt this unusual invitation might have something to do with his birthday being today. But just this once, he'd take the cheese. Splinter suppressed a smile. He made a funny. 

* * *

"Aw, common Raph. Wear it just this once?" Leonardo coaxed. 

"No!" Raphael glared. 

"It's just a birthday hat." 

"It's a paper ice-cream cone with stupid decorations. N. O." 

"Well, would you prefer the one with pompons?" Donatello joined in. 

Raphael snapped his fist out and clipped Don on the shoulder. 

Donatello immediately stopped laughing and clutched his dead arm to suppress the waves of pain. "Owowowowow." 

"We're all wearing them. You won't look any less goofy then us," Leonardo said. 

"If I had any lips, I'd tell ya' to read 'em. NO!" 

"For Splinter then?" 

Raph hesitated. He let out a torturous groan and snatched the dorky hat from Leo. "Just until he gets here. Got that?" 

"Got it," Leo smiled. 

Glowering, Raphael stretched the band out wide and slipped it under his chin while the hat sat crookedly on his head. Then, as if on cue, Casey Jones waltzed in. April was right behind him carrying an armful of decorations. 

"Yo, Raph! Lookin' good!" 

April giggled, "It's cute!" 

Raphael's face became as red as his mask. Whether from embarrassment or anger, no one could tell. 

Casey idled up and quick as lightning grabbed the stretchy band and let go. The thin snap against skin, left Raphael stunned with watery eyes. Everyone nearly doubled over laughing. 

Suddenly, there was a monstrous howl and thump as Raphael bowled Casey over. They wrestled across the room taking several decorations down with them. 

"I think Raphael's feeling a little violent this morning," Don watched and rubbed his sore shoulder. 

April groaned in reply. "Quit it! We don't have time for this!" 

Raph and Casey didn't seem to hear. 

"Argh! It's like I'm in a huge stewpot of testosterone!" she said through clenched teeth. Hands on hips, she marched up to them and gave Casey a kick in the side when the first opportunity presented itself. 

"Yow!" 

The two finally parted to blink at her. Casey lifted his hands in mock surrender. Raphael followed suite. 

"Get back t-" 

Suddenly, Mike's voice could be heard from outside. 

"Oh my God!" April gasped, "Quick! Fix those decorations and get the cake lit!" 

Everyone scrambled away. Leo fixed a fallen streamer, April tossed some confetti on the floor, Raphael blew up a few more balloons (and got very lightheaded in the process), Casey torched forty candles on the cake, and Donatello flipped the breaker. All electronics immediately dimmed out as everyone claimed a hiding spot. 

* * *

"Bacon, eggs, toast, waffles, sausage, pancakes, hot syrup, French toast, fruit, eggs....did I mention eggs?" 

"You did." Splinter followed along listening to Michaelangelo's constant babble. 

"Yeah, anyway, it's gonna be the breakfast of the century! I helped, of course." 

Not quite catching Mikey's enthusiasm, Splinter said nothing as they crossed the yard. Mike's volume suddenly increased a notch. 

"So! Here we are! Home sweet home!" 

Splinter thought he heard some fumbling and shushing behind the closed door as they approached. Mike twisted the doorknob abnormally slow. Swinging it open, he made quick scan that did not go unnoticed by his Sensei. He then opened it wider and offered Splinter the first entrance. The old rat nodded his thanks and stepped in. It was dark and quiet. Too quiet... 

"SURPRISE!" 

The lights powered up, and everyone leapt out with cheesy grins. 

Splinter gave a raspy chuckle, laughing more and at how predictable they were rather then this turn of events. 

They all burst out into song as Casey came into the room carrying a blazing birthday cake. 

"Happy birthday tooooo yooooouuuu!" the voices dipped low. 

Mike gave a bold, opera finish, "And many mooooooore!" 

The cake was directly in front of him now, and all eyes were on him in anticipation. With a gentle heave, the flames flickered but did not blow out. Suddenly, he broke into violent coughs. All grins transformed into frowns. Feeling lightheaded, he started to slump and sink to the ground. Donatello and Leonardo caught him and guided his body the rest of the way to the floor. 

"Get him a glass of water Mike," Don ordered. 

"I'm s-sorry," Splinter gasped out between gulps for air. 

"Shh, don't talk," Leo held him. 

Mike returned shortly with the water. Leonardo took the glass in one hand and placed the other in the small of Splinter's back. Gently, he lifted him to accept it with Don supporting his side. Leo guided the liquid to his mouth just barely tipping it to allow a small trickle. Splinter tensed but relaxed as it slid down his throat while easing the grinding pains. 

April clutched Casey looking rather pale. Casey, in turn, looked on in concern while nearly forgetting about the cake in his arms. The candles melted away to stubs and streams of wax ruined the frosting before he finally remembered to blow them out. 

Raphael stood off to the side as well with a withdrawn and worried stare. The future of this party was looking pretty bleak. 

The liquid had helped subdue the rasping, but Don noted his master's chest pumping unusually fast and shallow. Using his thumb, he smoothed the water that had escaped around the fur on Splinter's muzzle. Then together, he and Leo lowered him back to the floor. 

"Let's get him into a bed," Leo turned to Raph. 

Don stepped back and allowed Raphael to take his place on Splinter's right. They lifted him from under the armpits and helped him the nearest bed, which happened to be Mike's. Michaelangelo cleared the way for them, shoving piles of comic books aside and other belongings lying in the way. 

"Thank you," was all Splinter could manage as they eased him onto the mattress. 

As Don started toward the bedroom behind them, April suddenly caught his arm. He turned and felt a pang of sorrow seeing her tears. 

"He-he's feeling better now, isn't he?" 

"Yeah. He'll be okay," Don reached up and smudged a tear from her cheek. She gave him a hug and followed Casey to the room. 

Donatello watched them leave and inspected his hand when they disappeared. There was a tiny amount of blood smeared across his palm. His sharp eye had spotted the small, dark pool matting in the corner of Splinter's mouth. He didn't think any one else had noticed, and he wasn't about to tell them before he could look into what it meant. Don would hold their pain and worry for them and keep the bad news, if any, for now. 


	2. Day 2

If I could tell the world just one thing   
It would be that we're all okay   
and not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful   
and useless in times like these 

by Jewel Kilcher in "Hands" 

* * *

Leonardo dozed in a chair next to Splinter's bed. His chin rested against his plastron carelessly, and a cold cup of Ginseng tea was nestled loosely in his hands. 

Splinter shuffled in the sheets quietly, so as not to disturb him. The pains in his chest were growing worse. In truth, he had been experiencing them for some time now. Waves of bitterness washed over him. He had not been wholly honest with them, but they didn't deserve this. He sighed. 

The rat gave a tender side glance at Leonardo. The lamp light bathed the turtle in heavy shadows contrasting against a silky green glow. Nearby his katanas rested against the wall also glinting with a heavenly-like sheen. Splinter admired the rare scene with pooling eyes. His son's face was so serene and peaceful. If he were to pass on, he hoped Leonardo's face would be just like that. 

Splinter then turned in the bed and gazed at the wall. Was it wrong to think of death so soon? Did it mean he was loosing hope? As a ninja, Splinter didn't fear death, but as a father he was petrified. Denial clawed up his throat, and he fought it down. He knew he was thinking of the worst possible outcome at the moment, but as their mentor that was sometimes necessary for their protection. 

The marquee of thoughts and emotions in his mind paused as the door squeaked open. Michaelangelo peered in. Seeing that his master was awake, he stepped in and shut the door softly behind him. Splinter nodded a welcome as he sat in the chair on the opposite side. Leonardo didn't stir meanwhile. 

"How're you feeling?" Mike reached for Splinter's hand that lay at his side. He offered a friendly pat. 

The worried and pleading look speared the old rat's heart. He wanted to tell Michaelangelo everything would be all right, but was suddenly against it. They needed only his honesty now. 

"Pensive," was all he dared reveal. Mike was very sensitive, and he decided to step lightly with his emotions. 

Mike laughed, "Well, I guess that's a good sign." He gave his master's hand another squeeze. 

Splinter was suddenly concerned. He saw it more as a bad sign, especially if he was already dwelling on the possibility death. Mike always had a way of twisting things to the positive aspect. It was usually a very good quality, but also a fault if wrung to denial. 

"Perhaps," he forced a smile, "Has Donatello and Raphael returned yet?" 

"No Sensei," more worry seemed to deepen in his son's already strained expression, "They've been gone all day..." 

"They'll be fine," Leonardo's voice suddenly interrupted. He was wide awake now and giving his brother a long glare. "They can take care of themselves. Let's not trouble Sensei." He stood, "He obviously has enough on his mind." 

Mike didn't like that tone and looked to Splinter for a rescue. 

"Their safety is my concern, Leonardo," Splinter offered. 

"And your health is ours," Leo added with little room for debate. 

Mike was astonished. Leo was being more pushy then necessary, even to Sensei. 

He suddenly realized this and sighed. "Sorry. I'm just a little...stressed," Leonardo added while rubbing the back of his neck. 

Splinter abruptly erupted into more coughs. He tried to suppress them politely, but his lungs spasmed in rebellion. 

Mike offered some tissues, "I think we all are." 

The brothers exchanged sad looks. 

As the attack died down, Splinter caught his breath. His throat was on fire with friction and acid. 

"Michaelangelo, will you please bring me another glass of tea?" he croaked. 

"Of course." Mike took the glass from Leo and instantly took his leave. 

Leo stepped up and knelt. "Forgive me Sensei. I did not mean dishonor you." 

Splinter lifted an emaciated hand and placed it gently on his head. "You are forgiven. Remember to be sympathetic to your brother's feelings as well as your own." 

"Hai," he stared at the floor, "I will." 

Leo got back up and walked to the wall where his katana rested. He sheathed them with a metallic swish and leaned toward the lamp. "I'll let you sleep now. Would you like the light off?" 

"No, it's fine. Please see to Raphael and Donatello's return." 

"I will." 

"Good night, my son." 

"Good night, Sensei." 

The door shut softly and he was gone. Splinter sighed again. A dark cloud of loneliness came over him. Unballing his fist, he stared at the bloody tissue that remained hidden to them. There was still so much they needed to know. 

* * *

"See anything?" Raphael stood beside a large, square garbage bin. 

"No, not yet," a voice echoed from within it. 

"Hurry it up, will ya'?" 

"Well, Raph, this thing is loaded with biohazards. Do you want me to just start plowing through it haphazardly?" 

"Yes." 

"Your overwhelming support is touching. Truly." 

There was a long silence. Inside, Donatello stopped his trash sorting when Raph didn't reply. 

"Raph?" 

"Shh!" 

"What is it?" Don dropped his voice. 

"Something's comin'." 

Raphael snarled when a bulky truck suddenly backed up into the alley, "Shit!" 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"Get outta there Donny! NOW!" 

A high-pitched beeping filled the alley as the garbage truck drew closer. Raphael leapt on a fire escape to avoid it while Don immediately grabbed the edge of the bin and jumped out. Making a neat landing, he turned around with wide eyes. Suddenly he was trapped between two large spikes from the vehicle like a deer caught in headlights. The spikes slid roughly into slots on the bin and began to lift it. 

Raphael grit his teeth hearing the squeal of scraping metal. A tidal wave of scrap fell from the upside-down bin and into the truck's bed. But where was Donny? He paced to and fro, never taking his eyes from the scene. Then he spotted a shadow at the very forefront of the truck on the roof. 

When the bin was finally empty, the device set it down and the truck jerked forward to leave. As it passed the fire escape, Donatello used his staff to vault towards it. He landed next to Raphael, slightly out of breath. 

"That was close." 

"Damn close," Raphael glared daggers at him. 

"Guess we'll have to find another garbage bin." 

"No." 

"Raph, I need supplies for Splinter. We can't go back empty handed!" 

"We won't." Raph turned to the hospital building nearby. The very one that the first garbage can came from. 

Don followed his gaze, "No way. Don't even think about it." 

"Common Donny, hospitals always have extra supplies. Splinter doesn't deserve used crud. We'll be in and out." 

"Look, I know it's gross, but that's the way it's always been." 

"Not any more. Let's go." Raph started climbing up the fire escape. 

"Stealing from innocents is wrong, and you know it!" Don called from beneath him, "Sensei wouldn't want this!" 

Raphael paused on the top level of the fire escape to wait for Donatello to catch up. Moments later, he appeared. Raph's arms snapped out and grabbed the rim of Don's shell to pin him. He looked his brother directly in the eye with frozen fury. Donatello was too stunned and alarmed to wretch out of the hold. 

"Listen, and listen good. Splinter is too damn nice to humans for his own good. They've done shit for us and we've spilled our own blood in return. You're the smart one Donny, tell me, is that fair? Is it justice? Does that equation balance out?" Raphael shook him roughly. 

"Raph, let me go," Don warned. 

His brother's eyes flashed dangerously, "No! They OWE us. Don't you get it?" 

"We can't. It's against everything he taught us," Don looked away. 

"Fine, just get the hell outta my way then." 

Raphael released his grip and shoved Donny aside. He then leapt onto the roof and disappeared. 

Donatello's legs went numb. He slid into sitting position and hugged his knees. Suddenly it was cold, and he shivered. This wasn't suppose to happen...nothing was meant to be like this. 


	3. Day 3

April blinked groggily at her alarm clock glowing 3:12 in bold, red letters. Sitting up, she shoved the blankets off wondering briefly why she had woken. Then she realized her throat was achingly parched. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and suddenly paused seeing a light shining through the strip of her door. Who would be up at this ungodly hour? 

After groping in the darkness, April shrugged a robe on and ventured out into the kitchen. Her thirst abruptly forgotten, she stopped in the doorway. A pale glow from a light over the sink slathered one of the turtles with a ghost-like sheen. She couldn't quite make out which of the brothers it was since his bandana and pads were missing. His bare elbows were propped on the table, and his hands covered his face as he wept. Her heart nearly stopped beating, and her chest seemed to implode hearing his quiet sobs. Positive that he already knew of her presence, she stepped in and sat in a neighboring chair. April tenderly removed his hands from his face. Maskless, dull, and waterlogged eyes focused on her. 

"Leo?" she recognized the sky-blue eyes. 

He looked away, but she caught his cheek with one hand and forced him too look directly at her. "What's wrong?" 

Leo was quiet a moment. 

"He's getting worse," he finally whispered. April was about to say something, but he reached from under the table and shoved something over. It was a garbage can. Scooting closer, her eyes went wide seeing a whole stash of bloody tissues. 

She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. "Oh God...Splinter..." 

"I was cleaning up around him...thought I wouldn't wake him this early," his eyes turned to the garbage can, "This- this is very serious, April. I thought he just had the flu, maybe even pneumonia, but this...I don't know." 

He wiped his face dry with his arm, but seeing April's tears only created more. 

"Is he asleep?" April asked. 

"Yes, but he can hardly breathe. He's fighting for air. I didn't know- I thought," Leo trailed off looking oddly frightened and fragmented. 

"I'm so sorry." She took his thick, calloused hand into her own. Touch seemed to communicate more for her then words. He squeezed back gratefully. 

They shared a silent moment together until Leo become restless and agitated again. Suddenly standing, he released his grip on her hand and moved off toward the sink. April watched him carefully feeling slightly rejected. He spread his arms and leaned on the edge of the sink while looking out the window. 

"Raph and Don haven't come back yet either," he said to his dark reflection in the glass. 

"That's not like them." April's eyebrows knitted together. 

Leo leaned toward a nearby cupboard and pulled out a cup. Hearing the running water, April immediately remembered her thirst. He came back to his seat and set the glass down in front of her. 

"No. It's not." 

* * *

This town was much easier for a ninja to get around in, Raphael decided. Security was low. Street lights were few and far between. Most of the buildings were built with wood or textured materials and shingles to aid his grip on the rooftops. Plus people actually slept here unlike New York. Only the fewer number of manholes made him nervous 

The turtle in red leapt to another neighboring roof. At last, he stood on North Hampton hospital. There seemed to be little activity, but his guard was tight nonetheless. It was quiet despite a few roaming trucks and dogs barking in the distance. Satisfied that it was clear, he jumped a short ways to the ground. The lawn's stiff and perfectly cut grass felt wonderful under his bare feet. Ignoring the pleasure, he leapt into a bush just below a window. There he pushed the screen out and bust the window in with his elbow. Nothing happened. Encouraged, he slipped in and eyed every crevasse and corner of the dark room. Counters bordered almost every wall with numerous supplies and gadgets. He didn't even know what Donny was looking for. Glancing over the stuff carefully, he saw nothing of immediate use. 

Turning around, Raphael halted in front of a table in the center. A thin sheet of paper was stretched across the padding. On one edge resided two empty stirrups. Raph smirked knowing full-well what they were. Ever since Mikey had become obsessed with those hospital dramas, he'd picked up at least a thing or two. 

Raphael abandoned the table and approached the only door. He turned the handle silently and peeked out. The halls were dark and empty. He slipped out and closed the door. A chuckle escaped him seeing 'DELIVERY ROOM' printed in bold on the other side. As far as he knew, Splinter wasn't about to have a baby. He immediately moved on to other doors. Seeing 'SUPPLIES' printed on one, Raph turned in its direction and entered. 

Finally. A maze of shelves stuffed with all sorts of goodies awaited his plundering. His keen and well-honed night vision enabled him to do just that. While loading his arms with bandages, tissues, and aspirins a noise behind the turtle caused him to stiffen. He shoved it all back on the shelf and hid just as the door swung open. A bulky figure stepped in. 

"Raph? You in here?" 

Raphael relaxed, and jumped down from the top of a shelf. 

"Decided to join me, huh?" 

"Y-yeah, I guess." Donny looked agitated. 

"I knew you'd eventually see it my way," he paused seeing his brother fidget, "Hey, relax. Everything we need's in here." 

"No, it's not that. I think we were followed here, Raph." 

"Wadda ya' mean?" 

"Someone came with us to North Hampton." 

"Who?" Raphael raised an eye ridge. 

Don opened his hand revealing a shuriken star with a Foot symbol neatly branded on the metal. 

"Where'd you get that?" 

"I threw it at him," a deep, rumbling voice came suddenly from the door, "Pity it missed." 

They were too stunned to react. 

"I'll remedy that." 

There was a glint of metal before blackness engulfed them both. 


	4. Day 3, Part 2

Mike's solo below is owned by Josh Groban and translated from Italian.

* * *

Leonardo held very still near the door of the barn. Inside he could hear a melodic tenor voice resound pleasantly within the walls. He felt as if he was floating with the rise and fall of each note. The turtle relaxed and sat down on the lawn. He had always secretly admired his brother's harmonic voice. Michaelangelo had perfect tone and flexed the sound richly with volume and intensity. He rarely boasted the talent though, singing his fullest only when alone as if a sacred ritual. Leo hesitated to disrupt it, no matter how important his news was. He couldn't escape anyway if he tried. The song was almost...intoxicating. 

Dedicated to the one, guilty or innocent   
lost in this sea   
yielded to the stream   
who wouldn't ever be a winner? 

Dedicated to the one always keeping hope 

in front of a sorrow   
in the cold of a room 

Dedicated to the one searching his own freedom 

I sing to life   
to all its beauty   
to every wound of it   
to every caresse of it 

I sing to life, and to it's tragic beauty   
To pain and to strife, but all that dances through me   
The rise and the fall, I've lived through it all 

Dedicated to the one who always made it dry   
like possessed, slipped through fingers   
it was always already over 

I sing to life   
reflected into your eyes   
easy and endless   
promised land for us 

I sing to life   
sweet and even fierce   
to this journey of ours   
which still puts us in chains 

It calls us... 

Don't ever doubt   
Don't ever doubt   
Don't ever leave it alone   
alone   
... still ... 

I sing to life   
to all its beauty 

I sing to life   
sweet and even fierce   
to this journey of ours   
which still puts us in chains 

It call us... 

Fading into the words, Leo slipped into a realm of nostalgia. Some other time, some other place stashed away in the bliss of memory. He thought of their home in the sewers, his brothers, but most of all of Splinter. He was trying to fathom a life without his Sensei. It seemed inconceivable that after spending their whole lives unique and alone, that they could be left even more empty and desolate with the rat's future passing. The grinding sound of tender tissues fighting for air kept haunting the back of his mind. Why? Why Splinter? Why now? Hadn't the fates done enough?! 

His reverie instantly seized when the door opened. Michaelangelo curiously approached the huddled shadow. 

"I thought I heard you out here," Mike smiled thinly. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to-" 

"That's okay. Sometimes you just gotta get it out, no matter who's listening." Mike sat down next to him. 

They shared a comfortable silent moment. 

Finally Michaelangelo spoke up, "Great night, huh?" 

"Hmm?" Leo looked up, "Oh. Yeah." 

Mike wasn't really satisfied with that answer. Leo barely gave the sky a glance! Seeing that strange melancholy expression slackening his brother's face, he decided to just let it slide. Michaelangelo studied the expanse again with extra vigor as if compensating for Leo's lack of it. The blackness cuddled winking stars that exploded across the velvet display. The sharpness and clarity of it all drained his thoughts away. 

Leonardo tore his gaze from the ground and looked at Mike. He was completely enthralled with the scene, hardly even blinking. Leo wished he could see the world like Michaelangelo. Desiring the feverish control to manipulate the state of mind. He desperately wanted somehow to express that to him, but words weren't enough. Now was not the time or place anyway. Leo's own talent of direction came to mind. 

"Mike? We need to leave." 

When his brother didn't say anything, Leo wondered if he had heard him, "Mikey?" 

"Yeah, I know. I've been waiting them." 

"If they haven't come by now, then something's wrong. Casey's going to drive us into the edge of town to look for them. April will stay with Splinter." 

Leo stood and brushed some loose bits of dirt and straw off. 

"I'll go on one condition." 

Leo paused at the strange request. He had been expecting Mike's full cooperation. "What?" 

"You have to cheer up, kay? Everything will turn out all right." 

Surprised, he flashed small smile, "I hope so." 

Leo held out his hand and helped Mike up. 

Beyond anything right now, he wished he could believe Mike's brotherly advice. 

* * *

April wrung a cool wash cloth out in an adjourning bathroom before returning to Splinter's bedside. She placed it on his forehead with a gentle touch. He didn't react at all. His breathing was still ragged, but it smoothed out a bit with the dampening effects of sleep. Rest was all he could manage now. 

April sat in the nearby chair and simply watched her friend fight this battle. The rhythm of his breathing was rapid, shallow, and lulling. Looking over him further, disbelief crept up her insides. How could this be the strong and wise mutant she once knew? This weak and struggling body roasting with fever? An exhausting sweat bordered his features creating dark and glossy clumps of fur. It was freighting to see one so strong in spirit broken this easily. 

The rat moaned and tossed slightly. His eyes were violently shifting under thin lids. 

"Omoiokoseba…gonen mae," he issued a string of mutters. She assumed it was something in Japanese. Then an idea came to her. Getting up, she rummaged through one of the dressers as quietly as possible. Emerging successful, April struck a match and lit some incense. The scented stream of smoke snaked upwards, overwhelming her senses all at once. It was spicy with that foreign soothing effect she always enjoyed. It quickly drifted and filled the room. As a result, Splinter had calmed in his slumber considerably. She briefly wondered what he was dreaming. Hopefully it was something worth seeing out. The last thing she wanted to do was explain the turtles' absence! 

Hugging her knees and rocking unconsciously in the chair, April started to drift off. The incense had dulled her worry and fogged over her mind. Hearing a startling gasp, however, her eyelids snapped open. Splinter sat up, amazingly, and began to wrench in a bowl provided on a bed stand. After a few dry heaves, he slumped back in fatigue and shuddered with cold-sweats. 

April approached, concerned that his eyes weren't focusing. 

"Go back to sleep. I'm here for you," she picked up his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Much to her relief, he squeezed back. She lifted the covers that had pooled at his waist, and replaced them snuggly over his struggling chest. 

"Thank you," he said softly, almost under his fading breath. With that finally expressed, he drifted back into limitless dreams. 

* * *

Raphael and Donatello sat in defeated silence. Both were tied securely about the chest to a post. It was sturdy, easily sporting a diameter twice that of their shells and joined at the top with ceiling beams of a warehouse. 'What did the Foot see in warehouses anyway?' Raphael thought to himself, 'Personal preference? But then again he hung out in sewers, so who gave a damn anyway? Not him.' 

Neither could remember the journey here nor how they were rendered unconscious so easily. They didn't even know how long they had been knocked out. The warehouse was black save for one light nearby. It revealed absolutely nothing time-wise. The welcome wagon, however, didn't waste a moment of haste upon their awakening. 

The sound of a door opening echoed deep throughout the large, concrete room. Then…nothing. No footsteps. Sensing a familiar presence though, Raphael looked up. Donatello kept his gaze on the ground, not willing to give the intruder the respect of acknowledgment. 

Oroku Saki stopped five feet from them and sat slowly. He offered a stare that was unsettlingly blank. No armor. No deadly blades thrusting out every which way. No mask. Just a man underneath the elaborate façade they had come to know so well. His chest was bare with white wraps around his abdomen matching baggy, creamy-silk pants. 

Saki's muscles were well toned and solid. They jabbed out and sloped his physique making him all the more intimidating. But Raphael hardly found it that way. His skin was also smoothed with scented oil, allowing the low light to highlight and chisel in coordination with shadows. 'Those Foot-dimwits actually treat this freak like their God!' Raphael thought to himself and grit his teeth in a snarl. 

"What the hell are ya' doin'? Kill us, damn it!" 

"Not that we're suggesting anything," Donatello felt obligated to deflect his brother's rash command. Neither so much as batted an eye. Don withdrew, intimidated into foolish silence. This was Raph's show now. 

"You've been waiting for this moment for twenty damn years! Do it!" 

No reaction. 

He continued boldly, "Or are you nothin' without that freakin' costume? Ooooh, or maybe you're too good for that! Too good for everything! Even for your own revenge now, are we? Hmm? That's right, you're above all that! The code, honor, betrayal," he paused for effect, "murder?" 

Donatello carefully studied Saki during Raph's astonishing chides. With the last word, he thought he saw his pupils narrow within icy-gray rims. Saki's overall complexion, accented by raked scars and a mottle cheek, was acutely deformed with such a subtle change. 

But Raphael caught on too late. Before either could take another breath, twin katanas were thrust and suspended before their throats within a fraction of a centimeter. 

"When the rest of your clan arrives, you will suffer. Have patience," he breathed into their ears so softly that it tickled. 

Saki jammed both of the swords into the post just above each turtle's head as if to cinch the final deadline. 


	5. Day 3, Part 3

Michaelangelo was afraid to enter the room. It was all so confusing. The being dieing behind that door couldn't be Sensei. His master was down in the lair mixing his morning tea. He was positioned in his favorite recliner attentively watching ridiculously old soaps or the four o'clock news. He was alone in the dojo executing an impossible kata effortlessly. How could he not be there? Someone needed to tend to their wounds after harsh battles, to soothe their constantly troubled souls and provide a listening ear. How could he leave them here? Alone? 

Mike's hand was firm on the door knob. 

"I know this hurts, Mike, but we have to make this quick," Leo said in a hushed tone. 

"This could be our last time ever-" 

"I know," Leo placed his hand over Mike's on the knob. He gently wrapped his fingers around his brothers, and twisted the doorknob. The same dreary room assaulted sore eyes. 

April looked up sadly as Mike and Leo halted at the foot of Splinter's bed. 

"Could we have a moment with him alone?" Leo asked. 

"Of course," April stood running a hand through her hair. She looked exhausted, Leo thought. 

"Thank you." 

April put her hand on Leo's shoulder for a moment. He could feel her sympathies overflowing from her eyes and touch. She said nothing else and shut the door softly behind her. Leo immediately sat in her chair and took Splinter's limp hand in his own. It was warm and familiar. A touch he'd come to know so well. He stared longingly at the slack face. There was a peculiar odor hot on Splinter's breath, a sign he was slowly but inevitably deteriorating from the inside out. 

Mike sat on the other side and took the other hand. 

"Sensei," he sqeezed softly, "This is Leonardo." 

The hand didn't squeeze back. Fright washed over him like ice and a tear escaped his eye. He quickly caught it with his free hand. 

"And Michaelangelo," Mike stroked the other hand with no response. 

"God, what do I say?" Mike thought as he closed his eyes tightly to dam off the tears threatening to flood out. He slowly lowered his forehead and touched it to the limp wrist while still clinging to the fingers. 

Leo's insides jerked hearing a muffled wail escape from his brother. He looked away blinking repeatedly. He had to stay strong. Crying wouldn't help any. His eyes came to rest on Splinter's heaving neck. There he spotted visible a vein pumping rapidly. The only sign of life besides the roar of fighting for air. He gripped the hand tighter feeling a similar pulse quiver in his palms. Life was so fragile. How could he be so blind to that fact without these heart-wrenching moments? 

Mike suddenly stood, taking his hand away and cupping them over his face. "Oh God," he wailed, "God, oh God, he's- I can't...oh God." 

Leo broke away as well and caught his brother in a tight embrace. For a long moment he just let him cry on his shoulder. The coughs and hiccups rock them sorrowfully. 

"We can't leave him Leo," Mike finally gasped out. 

"It's what he would want. Something's very wrong if Raph and Don haven't come back by now. They need our help, and there's nothing more we can do for Sensei here." 

"I'm afraid...so scared that-" 

Leo hugged him tighter, "We can pull through this together. I'll always be there for you Mike, whatever happens." He was crying now as well. 

They sobbed themselves dry in each others arms, parting finally at struggling words. 

"My...sons." 

They rushed to the bedside, but Splinter had already lapsed back into unconsciousness. 

"Let's go," Leo guided Mike to the door, "He needs to rest." 

"Good-bye Sensei. I love you," Mike sniffed and left the room. 

Leo paused in the doorframe and gave a deep bow. Nothing else could properly express the affection and respect lodged deep in his heart. He backed out after a final glance.

* * *

"Turn here," Leonardo motioned Casey to the right. 

"You got it," their human friend cranked the wheel and pulled into a very narrow alley. The headlight beams revealed nothing more then an empty trash bin. Michaelangelo and Leonardo stepped out to further inspect the area. This is where Donatello said he and Raphael would be, and obviously, they weren't any more if they ever were in the first place. Casey stayed in the running vehicle keeping the lights on. 

Michaelangelo retrieved a pair of nunchucku from his belt and created a firm step for Leo to boost up onto the rim of the trash bin. The thin ledge didn't offer much balance-wise, but Leo maintained it expertly nonetheless. Crouching down, his shadow projecting against the back wall elongated eerily. Mike watched in silence, not liking this at all. 

"Nothing," his brother landed neatly next to him on the ground. 

Mike squinted in the headlight beams and let his eyes roam over every detail of the alley. A form near the entrance caught his attention. 

"Leo," he nudged him, "A fire escape." 

As they walked toward it, Leo opened the passenger door of the truck and told Casey to drive around town and search while they looked on the rooftops. 

"We'll turn every leaf over if we have to," he finished. 

Casey nodded, "Good luck." 

Leo closed the door. The truck backed out and disappeared. The turtles then hurried up the fire escape with ease. 

"Damn," Michaelangelo cursed under his breath as he pulled something from the wall. Leo could see a shuriken in his hand glinting in the moonlight. 

"The Foot. I should have-" 

Mike held up a hand to silence him. Using the same hand, let his palm glide over the railing. He swabbed something sticky up and rubbed it between his fingers while inhaling its metallic scent. There was no mistaking it. Blood. 

"This could be a problem," Mike understated. 

Leo didn't reply. Instead, he stepped up on the last rung of the fire escape and leaped onto the roof. Mike followed close behind. They both halted seeing bodies littering the ground. Foot soldiers. One of them groaned. Leo bent down on one knee and savagely ripped the mask off. A pale and bruised face pinched with horror and fright. 

"Who are you and what happened here," Leo commanded sharply. 

"My n-name is Kento Akio. Our orders," he paused to inhale raggedly, "were to capture the enemy." 

"What happened! Where are my brothers?" Leo tightened his grip. 

"We found one...alone, but we were only able...to wound him," he gasped. 

A moment of silence passed as Leo gathered his thoughts to piece this all together. He turned back to ask more questions, but the soldier had passed out again. Leo released the limp form and stood looking over the roof edge. 

"The rest of them are dead," Mike came up from behind. 

Leo looked thoughtful for a moment. "We have a trail," he said finally pointing out a blood smear on an overhang just below where further drippings continued down the wall and to the sidewalk. They jumped down and followed across the blank road to the hospital. From there it passed through a broken window. The area was still quiet and dark, so they continued. 

Finally they halted in a small stockroom. Several shurikens were lodge in the walls, shelves were tipped and scattered haphazardly, and blood coated the floor. Before either could comment on the wild scene, however, something popped at their ankles. White smoke exploded around them smothered the brothers unconscious. 


	6. Unknown Day

Michaelangelo slowly turned when the curve of his shell suddenly rocked him too far against a flat surface. He gasped and caught himself with an elbow. Pain suddenly shot up his arm and pooled like a brain-freeze in his head.  
  
"Ugh, funnybone," he announced to himself with grinding teeth. The shock wave subsided, and he turned onto the flat plates of his plastron for more stability.  
  
Taking deep breaths, Mike opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly. It was so black that it was becoming difficult to tell if his eyes were even responding at all. He groped around the area with his palms. Jagged concrete jabbed out everywhere he explored.  
  
"Leo?" he paused in surprise at the volume of his own voice. It boomed and shivered the stuffy air. "You in here?" he said more softly.  
  
No answer.

He decided to reply to himself instead, "Where ever here is."  
  
His outstretched fingers butted against a vertical surface. He pressed his hands against it with a heave. It was just the same, solid through and through. Following the height of the wall, his knuckles touched a ceiling. He lifted both hands and pressed against it. A box. He was trapped in some sort of concrete room! Michaelangelo continued to pan the wall counting each corner crevasse and feeling for seams. Two of them were deeper then the others, most likely a removable wall he surmised.  
  
With a sigh, he sat back on the cold floor in lotus position. He had judged his container to be about five feet in both length and width. Just enough for him to stand and lay down and only him. He was alone. A swelling of panic seem to broil in his gut before seeping up his spine. Alone.

* * *

"Ah, you're awake, and sooner then I thought. We'll have to adjust the sedatives accordingly."  
  
Donatello blinked groggily at a blurry face hovering over him. "Hm-what?" he mumbled drowsily.  
  
"Don't trouble yourself. You'll be back to sleep in no time," the face said almost chipper-like.  
  
The bright-white room slowly focused. Donatello's heart seemed to swell to an unnatural size as he began to move unresponsive limbs. Turning his neck to the side, he could see a firm chain around his left wrist. He quickly twisted to observe the same on his right.  
  
"W-who are you? What's going on?" Don fought to sit up.  
  
"No matter," the man responded while rummaging through material on a counter.  
  
Don craned his neck off of a padded table watch him, "Are you-? What is that?"  
  
The human finally stood in Donatello's line of sight next to the entrapment. He looked middle aged with fine wrinkles collecting on his face in which gave him a disturbingly amused and excited expression. He was rather short and skinny with long, white coat tails fluttering with every movement. Don groaned inwardly. Not a scientist.  
  
The man approached with a smile Donatello would wipe off in heartbeat if his arms weren't restrained. Knowing it was futile though, the turtle looked away to stare at the blank ceiling as the man lashed a strap taunt about the thick of his biceps.  
  
"Pump your hand, please."  
  
The only response Don offered was narrowing eyes still fixed upward.  
  
"Don't make this any more difficult then it has be, mutant. I will resolve to any method for your cooperation."  
  
Donatello felt something fall down his throat as his tense muscles slackened. As much as he ached to rebel, he knew scientists better then that. Things would only go downhill, if that was possible, and at this point, he knew it was. He finally submitted, hesitantly clenching and unclenching his fist as told. He could feel his arm strain with stale blood. There was a deep prick in the crook of his elbow and the rush of blood as the scientist drained it away.  
  
"Good. Very good," the man chatted while managing the process, "Master Shredder will be pleased with my report of your behavior."  
  
Don suddenly wretched his arm away. He ignored the deep tearing the needle caused on his arm to swing out with his elbow and crack the edge of a tin pan. Surgical tools clattered to the floor and the scientist howled with fury.  
  
"YOU! You insolent FREAK," the man ran to the counter to apply a cloth to his hand where a blade had sliced it.  
  
Donatello watched the red liquid drip and stain the starch lab coat with satisfaction.  
  
The man was shaking with fury, "My master will punish you dearly for this!"  
  
Don was tempted to roll his eyes, but focused on his arm instead. The damaged skin from the syringe was bleeding profusely. Dipping his arm downward, he steered the stream underneath the shackle around his wrist. There, it created a slippery surface for his hand to wedge out with some difficulty. Using his free hand, Dontello released all the other locks and stood from the table. The scientist slid to the floor and scooted to a corner.  
  
"Please, n-no. Don't hurt me..he-he made me!"  
  
Don loomed over the pitiful form.  
  
"I won't hurt you if you answer my questions," the turtle finally said in a surprisingly rational tone.  
  
"Yes, of course! Of course! Ask me anything," the man broke eye contact and looked at the floor.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"Foot Headquarters. New York."  
  
"How did we get here?"  
  
"We h-had the specim," he paused with a frightened look, "er...you – relocated."  
  
"Are my brothers here?"  
  
"I'm not sure- gack!" The scientist croaked as Donatello took him by the throat.  
  
"Two are the 12th floor and-and one in the basement!" the man rambled quickly.  
  
Donatello tightened his hand over his vibrating larynx, "You're not lying, are you?"  
  
The man shook his head vigorously, but it came out more like a bob as the turtle clamped to his neck.  
  
Don studied him closely before releasing him. He stood ominously, "Thank you."  
  
The man slumped as Don crushed a pressure point in his shoulder.  
  
"But let's not have this conversation again," Don mused as he tied the unconscious scientist's feet and hands with some rope he found in a nearby closet.  
  
He cleaned and bandaged his arm quickly with the supplies before leaving the room. The halls beyond were shallow and long, decorated with deep reds and Japanese artifacts. Nothing looked promising as cover, however. Forming a plan in his head, his mind came to a halt hearing a soft ding. Immediately he set off toward the sound.  
  
A blonde woman in a lab coat wheeled out from an elevator with a cart and a machine strapped to it. Around the corner Don eyed it with a wince. Judging by the saw blades and controls, he figured it was designed to saw through some tough material. He reached over and patted his shell. Thank God he got out of there when he did.  
  
The woman walked with a purposeful strut, her heels clacking against the tile. Don waited behind the corner until he could hear the wheels squeak noisily as she turned. While kneeling, he gripped the front of the cart as it approached and shoved it forward. The handle butted against the woman's stomach and she fell back gasping. Her eyes widened as his shadow passed over her.  
  
"Hate to do this, but-"he leaned down and executed the same maneuver as on the man. Her lids closed and her head rocked against the floor so her cheek was level with the ground. Grabbing the hem of her coat in one hand, and the handle of the cart in the other, he dragged them back to the operating room and set her carefully on strewn table he had occupied just moments before. Donatello then examined the machine. Exploring with his hands, he brushed up against a cord. With a tug, it popped out and it dangled like a useless snake in his hand.  
  
"That should do it," he looked over his handy work. He wasn't going to take any chances. No way he would allow this thing to ever operate.  
  
Satisfied, he left the room closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
After stripping the plastic from the power cord he had stolen, he wrapped the exposed wires around the doorknob. He then wove them back into the main wires to complete the circuit before inserting the prongs into a socket near by. It sparked and sizzled to life. A good zap will keep those scientists in there. He didn't want them sounding any alarms once they woke.  
  
Taking off once again, Donatello returned to the elevator where he forced the doors open and began climbing up the shaft. The lights above the door indicated to him that this was the tenth floor. If he could get to those two on the 12th floor first, he'd have twice as much help in rescuing whomever resided in the basement.  
  
The turtle bounded up the ladder rungs at first, but started to slow. His muscles began to strain and prickle oddly, and all wounds including the arm and minor ones from the beating the Foot offered earlier throbbed mercilessly. Breathing became difficult with his head swimming for consciousness. The sedatives were kicking back in! When he realized this, a foot slipped and he clung to a single rung with two hands. He dangled in the darkness, not able to conjure enough strength to lift himself back up. Before too long, Don's arms gave out. The black shaft swallowed him noiselessly. 


	7. Unknown Day, Part 2

"Leonardo." 

The turtle felt an inward stab hearing his name, but didn't so much as blink. The face approached until it was a few mere centimeters away. Leo could feel the hot wafts of breath twisting violently against his skin. In contrast, the eyes were barren and cold giving an upward flick before slowly moving downward to scrutinize every feature of the mutant. 

"The great Leonardo," Saki said neutrally before stepping back, the cape billowing behind him to catch up, "My…replacement." 

Saki drew the word out in a hiss while placing his helmet over his head to complete the Shredder costume. The word faded out like a tire losing air until replaced by breaths throttling against metal. 

"Nothing can replace a traitor!" Leonardo yelled. 

Before he could blink, his blue bandana slumped to the floor in neat halves. A trickle of blood flowed directly between his furious eyes. Their pale glow contrasted acutely beside the crimson, ablaze with hatred. 

Shredder held the blades attached to his arms up threateningly, "Meddling baka. You assume too much. Do not think I cannot break that zealous confidence of yours. I know your weakness. I know exactly where to pin each one of you revolting reptiles." 

Leonardo stiffed, then screamed, "Where are they?!" 

Shredder paced calmly in front of his hostage bound heavily to a chair in the center of the blank room. 

"Tell me!" Leo raged. His eyes followed the Shredder's movements venomously. 

"In their own hells." 

"Take me! I'm the replacement. That's all you need," Leo panted with exertion, "Just let them go." 

Shredder halted issuing raspy chuckles, "Very honorable, Leonardo, yes, but not necessary." 

"You would know nothing of honor," the turtle spat. 

"Perhaps," Shredder growled, "You need some lessons of your own." 

Leo leaned against the chair's back at a loss for a response. 

"What-" 

Before he could finish, one of the walls of the room began to retract. A window slowly appeared from behind it. Leo leaned over so far that the blood on his forehead began to drip directly onto the concrete below. 

A large gathering of Foot soldiers in usual ninja garb around a center being had caught his interest. He immediately recognized his brother. 

Raphael staggered as weapons battered him relentlessly. A soldier shoved him to the ground with a foot still on the bulk of his shell. Raph let out a savage howl as the soldier's sai bit into his shoulder adding to the many cascading wounds. 

Leo couldn't suppress a shudder. "No…please. Don't." 

Shredder flicked a switch in response and suddenly voices filled the room. 

"Feel that?" a young voice shouted, "Relish the pain. It's the only thing keeping you alive now!" 

Background voices cheered in the room in sequence with the wild crowd in the window. 

Leo's heart seemed to stop hearing his brother's replying groan. 

"I didn't want to kill him, kid," Raph's voice broadcasted weakly. 

"It doesn't matter. My brother is dead, and you're responsible!" 

Raph's throat restricted with coughs. He could feel dust mixing with blood as he breathed against the ground, "Shoulda…thought of that," he paused to cough more, "before joinin' bastards like the Foot." 

The young man seemed to ignore the comment, "And now to regain his honor! To regain honor for all the lives of our members you stole." He held the sai up high for all to see. 

The gathering shouted and clattered weapons even more violently. 

Leonardo watched in horror. Taking an instant look around, he noticed Shredder had slipped away. Bunching his leg muscles strenuously, he managed to scoot the chair closer to the window. 

Raphael could see the trembling sai pointing right at him in the corner of his eye. His eyes then swivled straight ahead at the floor as if uncaring. With a slow exhale, he allowed his muscles to relax against the pavement. This is it. He had this coming sooner or later. 

The young man's rage seemed to falter feeling the mutant submit underneath him. Sweat sloshed between the sai handle and his hand. He thought of his little brother. A young spitfire willing to defend all he believed in. His life was empty with out him, but the soldier could at least fill that pocket with honor by avenging the deceased boy. He abruptly mashed his palms to the weapon in a downward thrust. 

There was a sudden explosion causing the sai to slip in an opposite direction intended before it clattered loudly on the floor. The gathering looked up shielding eyes against hailing glass shards. A form plummeted to the ground screaming followed by another crash. 

All was still. 

Raphael reached his hand out toward the sai while everyone's attention was diverted. It made a soft _shiing_ sound against the concrete. 

The young soldier flipped around just as metal tore through his chest. He gave a silent gurgle before collapsing. 

The rest of the Foot focused back on him. Raph turned in a circle, letting his arm holding the sai sweep outward toward them, "Anyone else want their honor back?" 

No one moved. 

Raphael continued turning, "That's what I thought. Not so tough now, are ya'." 

A figure parted through the throng and slinked behind the mutant, katana poised for the kill. All eyes but Raph's saw him. 

"Come on," the turtle gloated further. 

He spun around hearing a crackling _ga-chiing_! 

Two katana's were trapped in an 'X' formation directly next to his face. 

"Don't encourage them Raph!" Leo smiled behind one of the blades. He dropped down and swept the daring soldier's feet away. The enemy then sagged like a sack of potatoes having knocked his head against the floor. 

"I didn't call for back-up," Raph gave a joking sneer. 

The two turtles put their shells together for protection and met the soldiers' hurdling attacks. 

"You're getting it anyway!" 

They erupted in a flurry of motion. Punches, jabs, uppercuts, thrusts, kicks, flips, and dodges. The energy only seemed to intensify as the brothers whirled and parried. The enemies began to lag having either been disengaged or abandoning the fight all together and eloping. 

The fighting finally halted as the brothers stood amidst cluttered bodies. 

No one was left. 

They knelt together gasping for breath. 

"I think my shoulder is broken. From that, uh, entrance," Leo clutched the offending arm. 

"You call that an entrance?" Raph chuckled, also checking himself over. 

"What? Are you saying you could have done better?" Leo played along. 

Raphael looked thoughtful for a moment before finally saying, "Nah, you did good. At least on the visual effects." 

Leonardo laughed and looked over. His brother was staring intently at him. 

"And Leo?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks."


	8. Unknown Day, Part 3

Shredder stole away from the blank room leaving Leonardo in what he had earlier referred to as the turtle's personal hell. Witnessing his own failure. Ultimate failure resulting in the ruined lives of those he loved most. His plans were coming together perfectly. His lips curled into a rare smile below the steely mask. 

The halls of this large abode where he quite literally ruled with an iron fist seemed to appropriately reflect his mood. The deep colors were rich topped off with eye catching designs from his home land. Strolling heavily through it reminded him that one day he'd return to Japan as the capital of his world-wide Foot regime. Yes, having properly disposed of his enemies, nothing could stand in his way. 

Shredder stopped at the elevator doors. A wicked breeze of pride filled him seeing the glaring Foot symbol branded on the opening. The world would come to fear him down to the very symbol binding the Foot clan. 

"Master!" 

His reverie was broken by the shrill voice. A soldier sprinted up and bowed low, his lungs pumped noisily trying to catch up. 

"Master, the two turtles have escaped!" 

The soldier kept low and only dared once to chance a look at Shredder's expression of this news. He was nearly floored seeing gleeful eyes. 

"Excellent. Retreat and secure the floor. Keep them here until the heliport garage opens." 

"Master?" 

"Do it!" 

"Right away," the ninja sped off in the direction he had come. 

Shredder pressed the elevator button and stoically waited for the doors to slide open. It gave an echoing _ding_ and he stepped in. He pressed the lowest button labeled BASEMENT. The enclosed space gave an odd shutter before dropping. Moments later the boxed dinged and the doors slid open once more. He stepped out with a refreshing blast of cool air rushing through the crevasses of his armor. It was black save for one weak light hanging low. The edge of its beam encompassed a very large stone cube. Shredder stood next to it, grabbing a hold of a large iron lever. He gave it a twist allowing one wall of the cube to collapse against the ground with a deafingly loud crash. Shredder stepped up and looked inside. The turtle was clinging to the opposite wall blinking furiously in the dim light. The weakest link. 

"Shredder!" he announced seeing the sinister outline of their life long enemy. "I should have known your rusty ass would be behind this. I can't say much for your hospitality." 

There was a strange silence. Finally a hoarse voice filled the box. 

"Michaelangelo, I presume. Comedian and nunchaku extraordinaire. Welcome." 

Mike was shocked by the Shredder's tone. It was almost...conversational. He chose not to reply to this. He was trying to figure out just what the man was playing at. 

"We have much to discuss. Time is of the essence, so I'll begin. Michaelangelo, my soldiers have confirmed to me that your sensei is dead." 

"Shut up," Mike whispered darkly, "You're lying." 

"Natural causes, I believe." 

"Shut up!" 

"I assure you, my information is very reliable. Michaelangelo, I've come to offer you a position. You and I are both linked to ancestors of the Foot clan. The feud between myself and the man I once called master Yoshi is no longer applicable as he is dead. The only thing left for you to do now is to rejoin the Foot under my liege. Remember, while you retain our ancient methods of ninjitsu, you are bound to us." 

Mike was stunned. What delusion was this freak living in? To think that he'd ever join an enemy he had labored against his entire life? 

"Think about it Michaelangelo," the voice continued strangely diplomatic, "All you've ever longed for: companionship, position and prestige....a normal life. This is all before you. Just say yes." 

Mike felt a deep stir within. Countless questions he'd asked himself many times before bombarded him all at once. What would his life been like if it was like all the others? To be human? Would he truly be happy? To wander the world's topside in freedom. Safe. Safe to dream. 

His feelings then transformed to flaming shame. 

"In case you haven't noticed Shredder, there are some things about me that can never change," he said bitterly, "Including this: I'd rather die then join your rotting Foot clan." 

Shredder was disappointed, but not discouraged. He'd break this mutant yet. He withdrew something from his cloak. "So be it." 

Michaelangelo braced for the blow but none came. 

There was a distant crash and rattling of metal. 

Opening his eyes, he looked around curiously. Shredder was gone. The only pursuing sound was his heart hammering in his throat. He stepped up to the entrance gazing around cautiously. Gaining courage, he left the shadows of his prison completely and stood under the light. Sweat glistened across his skin. 

His attention was immediately on the lit up and destroyed elevator just meters away. Shredder was bent over something, but his eyes were locked on Mike. A sudden flood of nauseousness struck him seeing another pair of bleary eyes. 

"Look who dropped in," Shredder held the blade to the being's throat, "Fate has obviously implored you. Accept my offer, Michaelangelo, and your brother lives." 

"Mike...don't," Donatello managed drowsily. He looked worse for the wear having plowed down the shaft and through the top of elevator. Luckily, his shell had taken the brunt of the damage, but he still struggled for consciousness. 

Michaelangelo stood stock still, his mind feverishly racing. 

"My patience is wearing thin." 

Donatello made an audible gulp as the blade cinched tighter. A small amount of blood began to trickle around it. 

"God, yes, YES! Leave him alone!" Mike sagged, tears over whelming him. 

Shredder stood and sheathed the blade, "Get back in the prison." 

Mike doubled over and vomited. He was disgusted with himself. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he then disappeared into the concrete abyss as told. 

Shedder pulled the lever again and the wall rose back up with mechanical whirring. At the same time, an even larger noise over took the basement and light flooded through a tunnel exit. 

Soldiers waiting in the shadows fired up a hidden helicopter up at the signal. The blades rotated slowly at first before blurring into a high pitched whine. Shredder clambered up into the back of the machine. 

The basement, in fact, was exceptionally large and roomy as the new light revealed. The machine lifted slightly and lurched forward. Chains latched to its belly jerked the concrete cube with ear-splitting scrape. In no time, it had dragged the attached prison to the large garage opening. It rushed through the tunnel beyond and disappeared. 

Donatello's bandana tails flapped wildly in its wake as he stood shakily near the exit. The air finally settled as he stared at the empty space the helicopter once occupied before falling to his knees. 

"Mikey!" His agonized scream echoed until lost in silence. 


	9. The Unforgivable Day

Donatello's stomach rolled violently and sparks exploded across his vision. He grabbed the nearby wall for support letting it pass. The muscles in his legs seemed to melt away beneath him as he slid to the floor. 

"Mike," he shuddered letting his body slump awkwardly against the cement. After a moment of random and empty gazing, trying to snag a thought, any thought, a metal glow caught in the garage opening's beam stole his attention. Don struggled to his feet and stumbled towards it. Upon arriving at the source, the mutant gave a hoarse laugh. 

"I'm coming buddy!" 

He hoisted himself up on the wing of a small plane and roughly planted himself in the cock pit. 

"Just hang on." 

Donatello examined the panel within the light that had turned on as he opened the door. He had tried several flight simulators before, but this really was a bizarre and erratic choice, especially for him. What did he know about actual flying? The replay of that helicopter thrumming away with its cargo set his jaw firm, and the seatbelt was cinched and clicked into place. He focused on the panel again, giving each gauge, switch, lever, and button critical attention. After aligning most of the instruments with his knowledge attained by the flight simulators, he turned a key and deftly flicked a single switch. 

The engine sprang to life as the propellers turned hesitantly before blurring into motion. Donatello let his hand rest on a single lever directly in the center. His heart was pumping wildly, nerves rushing and scrambling. With a slow exhale that strained his chest, he slowly pushed it forward while turning the steering handles toward the opening. The plane jerked and rolled forward obediently. Encouragement sprang to the fore as Don pushed the lever as far as it would go. The basement became a blur on the side, as he honed in on the opening. The windshield's view wavered back and forth as his hands quivered on the steering handles. Steady. Smooth and straight. The blood was slapping against his insides now. The plane veered in his panic. You can do this, you MUST do this! 

The machine gave a bounce, attempting to separate from the asphalt. Just a bit further! It gave large and increasingly violent bucks. Don brought the handles toward him until it nearly touched his plastron. The plane lifted once more with a wobble. Don waited for another impact with the ground, but it didn't come. He looked to each wing. They soared through the garage opening and gleamed in the sunlight. Donatello gave a hearty whoop. He did it! The turtle quickly wiped the sweat accumulating on his hands away and thrust the handles forward in determination. Mike's search and rescue was on its way! 

* * *

Raphael and Leonardo stood side by side heaving for oxygen. They had been backed into a corner in the surrounding halls on the same floor. Although Foot soldiers cluttered the ground, many more seemed to take each one's place.

"Back off!" Raph growled holding his bloodied sais out threateningly. 

As if to smite him, one separated from the crowd and rushed forward. Leo's muscles tensed then sprang in a round house kick. His leg sliced through the air, and the mutant nearly stumbled missing the target. The soldier stepped back avoiding the kick then charged forward throwing his weight into an outstretched leg. Just as Leo completed his turn, the soldier's kick impacted him directly in the chest. 

Raph dropped another man, killing him swiftly with a sai prong scraped across his throat. He flipped around hearing a sudden clatter of glass just as Leonardo crashed through a nearby window shell first. Dropping his weapons, Raph immediately sprawled through the hole created by his brother and reached out. He gave out a surprised yelp as his hand was firmly grasped also yanking him forward. Raphael anchored himself quickly with his knees against the ledge to accommodate the new weight. 

"LEO! Hang on!" 

His brother dangled helplessly over a dizzying expanse. A street far below writhed with cars, merely dots at this height. They beeped and sped along completely oblivious to the drama above. 

Leo looked down and quickly snapped his neck back to Raphael looking ashen. 

"Don't let go!" Raph screamed. 

Leo gripped his aching fingers tighter, but the movement slipped him further away from Raph's hold, lubricated by sweat. 

"I said HOLD ON, damn it!" Raph reached over with his other head to snag Leo's wrist. 

He could feel the soldiers on the inside prodding his legs with weapons and attempting to pull him back in. He kicked them away brutally and emerged completely out on the narrow ledge. Raphael stood slowly transferring Leo's added strain to his thighs. Every muscle trembled with exertion, his teeth clamped and eyes shut. Hearing a strange hum, however, he chanced opening his eyes and looking towards the sound. A helicopter was rising fast and skirting very close to the building. 

"Master Shredder, look!" The pilot glanced over his shoulder where Oraku Saki was seated comfortably in the back. He looked out the window and sat back looking amused. 

"Get as close to them as you can." 

"The pilot nodded under his helmet and pulled the machine towards the mutants. 

"Let's give them a lift home, shall we?" A raspy chuckle. 

The pilot over shot them and let the dangling cement block rest close by without hitting the building. 

Raphael saw his chance. He swung Leo out to the platform before giving a wild leap himself. Once they were aboard, the helicopter soared away, lifting high above the buildings of New York City. 

Raph collapsed against the cement. Glancing over he could see Leo looking peaceful upon the bliss of feinting. The single arm he had clung to desperately dangled at an odd angle, looking barely attached to the torso. Raphael winced and stared upward at the whirring blades above the helicopter's belly. Where ever the hell they were going or how didn't matter. They had survived. 

* * *

Donatello monitored his instruments occasionally between listening to air traffic over the radio and observing his surroundings in the sky. By tying his bandana in loop and dangling it over the center lever, he was able easily maintain the plane's balance. Whenever the bandana tipped too far forward or back, Don would ease the steering handles in the opposite direction until it was centered once again.

He kept his plane far back so as to not be sighted by his target. He'd spotted the helicopter shortly after barging out of Foot Headquarters and had followed it since. Judging from the northeastern course shown by his compass, they were headed directly for New Hampshire. Donatello found this unsettling to say the least. Had one of his brothers admitted to Splinter, April, and Casey's location? He doubted it. Perhaps they already knew. Whatever they were up to, Don would be just a step behind to stop them this time. 

Despite his worries, he was immensely enjoying his first piloting experience. It was everything he dreamed it to be, if not more. The sky was crystal blue. Refreshing clouds hovered close. He could see their large shadows cascaded down on the land looking green and peaceful below. Everything in the air seemed perfect and serene. 

Donatello suddenly straightened in his seat. The black dot ahead was dropping. Don leapt to attention and began lowering his plane as well. His nerves frayed again. Where could he land? Would they see him? Why were they stopping here? He looked down again at the ground zooming closer and closer. This was definitely New Hampshire. He recognized the relatively rural area, large spaces and fields filled the gaps between buildings and roads. He'd have to select one for landing, and fast. 

The plane's nose dipped suddenly, and Don grabbed the handles trying to maintain a frustrating balance that had been so easy just moments before. The air pocket passed, and he kept it level now with some ease. Up ahead, he chose a fence line and flew along it in parallel. Easing the lever back now, the machine slowed. Pushing a set of buttons, the belly of the plane groaned letting wheels emerge and stretch out. This was it! Couldn't be as hard as taking off! Don latched to that thought and focused to his task at hand. The wheels skidded against the ground with a burst of dirt. The wings sliced through a tall, golden wheat field, and the chopped pieces exploded in the air like fireworks. The plane bumped and hopped while the insides vibrated uncomfortably. 

Keeping his patience, he continued to ease the level slow. There was a blood-curdling scrape as a barb-wire fence broke over the plane's nose and tangled in the propellers. It gave a fantastic lurch before halting. Donatello twisted the key and flipped the switch. He jumped out with a satisfied expression. 

So it wasn't a perfect landing, but he thought he'd at least get Evil Knievel's approval. 

No matter, the farm house was just ahead. He dashed through the fields, the wheat whipping his skin. Jumping clean over several fences and a stream, he finally settled on the right plot of land. The house loomed closer, but there were no signs of a helicopter or any other disturbances. 

Donatello burst through the door panting. He was surprised to find Leo and Raphael passed out on the floor in the middle of the room. They looked tangled and broken. Checking their pulses with the affirmative of life, he explored further. 

"April? Casey? Hello!" His voice felt eerie in the quiet home. No answer. 

He reached out his hand for the door knob, petrified of what lay behind this door. What had happened here in the solitary house while they were away fending for their lives? Curiosity got the better of him as it often did, and he stepped in. 

The turtle's breath suddenly hitched and he fell to the floor gasping at the sight. Clambering to his knees, he moved to the bedside shaking with horror. The sheets were tie-dyed a dirty brown with dried blood. The figure in the center lay lifeless and empty. Its eyes stared at the ceiling clouded over with death, the jaw agape as if locked into an eternal scream. 

Trembling, Don picked up a bloodied knife on the bed stand. Below it, a message was crudely etched into the wood. 

**BEHOLD YOUR HONOR**


	10. The Day of No Return

Leo sat quietly by the window. A wispy breeze pulsed under the crack fluidly caressing his cheek, but he felt nothing. The birds praised the new morning with song. He heard nothing. His dull eyes stared at the empty room, but saw nothing. 

The room his master once occupied was relatively unchanged. The furniture remained overturned in shambles. The bed sheets stained and thrashed into wild rumples. The body, however, had been removed. The turtle himself was in similar condition. A heavy splint and wraps adorned his injured shoulder, where the joint was shredded right out of the socket. Various wounds, several stitched, decorated his clammy skin. A bandage also replaced his bandana aiding a minor concussion. He felt no pain though. At least not physical. 

Deep in Leonardo's blood, a strange fire burned. The flames of mourning consuming his heart to useless and fluttering ashes blown away in the winds of despair. He understood now that he had never truly hated another. Those he was forced to wound and kill, he felt a constant guild bleed with remorse. He hadn't even hated Oraku Saki. Until now. 

In the past, Leo had struggled with Splinter's often clashing ambitions. He taught his sons to thrive on the ideal of peace, but it seemed they were rarely capable of that while honor-bound to avenge Splinter's former master Hamato Yoshi. They were not allowed to rest while his murderer remained alive to cloud the world with his cruel intent. 

Leo secretly found Splinter's obsession of revenge upon Oraku Saki as his undoing. Although it was an ancient Japanese custom to regain honor through such violent means, throughout his experience with various religions in America, he found forgiveness to be the correct path. Now he understood. It all made sense. Why Splinter risked the lives of his own sons for mere revenge. The crime of killing Yoshi and now Splinter was simply unforgivable. 

It was a cowardly what the Shredder had done. Upon regaining consciousness, Donatello explained everything to Raphael and Leonardo. Don had stolen a plane at Foot Headquarters, and was able to follow a helicopter toward New Hampshire. The aircraft contained the Shredder and Michaelangelo in some sort of concrete cargo box. Raphael interrupted there and told his story of leaping from a window onto the helicopter as it passed. He had no idea it was Shredder's escape and worked himself into a rage knowing he could have helped Mike all along. He couldn't have done anything though. They were knocked out almost the entire trip sustaining serious wounds. 

From there, Don continued to fill in the blanks. The helicopter stopped at the farm house where Leo and Raph were deposited in the house. Why Shredder had spared their lives, none of them knew. April and Casey were still missing, but when they found out the truck was gone, they suspected the two humans had abandoned the house...probably in a hurry. 

The conversation continued on to the most dreaded subject of all. Their master. 

Donatello found Splinter's murder to be a separate incident. The blood that flowed from a fatal knife wound to the chest had dried over at least few days. Shredder wouldn't have had time manage the murder before Don's arrival. Chances were, Shredder was fully aware of their location the whole time and did the crime during their capture in New York. He knew of Splinter's vulnerable position and took full advantage of it. 

Leo was sickened that Saki wouldn't even allow Splinter peace in death the natural way. And now he loathed this man. Or rather, not a man. A demon. A true kapa haunting Earth from the depths of hell. It was still out there some where, corrupting others including his enslaved brother. 

Yes, whatever doubts he placed on Splinter were no more. Leo would hunt him down the rest of his life if he had to, just as he had from the beginning. Now it was more personal then ever before. 

* * *

Donatello sharply thrust a shovel's edge into the dirt. The earth crumbled as he jerked the handle, depositing the load in a nearby pile. Rivulets of sweat rained down.

The morning sun filtered through tall trees creating a puzzle of alighted dots below. A stream gurgled close by giving Don something to focus on other then his work. This was Splinter's favorite meditation spot. It was actually closer to the bank of the stream, but the turtle had chosen the driest area for the body. This spot was just as nice. The hole was half finished being two meters deep and four wide against a thick elm tree at the head. 

He didn't necessarily mind the job. Someone had to do it. Although he wasn't in the best of condition, he had few wounds that limited movement. His shell had a large missing block from the edge, revealing his right shoulder blade. An infection had developed in his elbow where the needle had torn tissue to the bone. He favored the arm slightly, but the tight bandage underneath an elbow pad provided good protection. Like his brother's injuries, he had also stitched up his own wound on the back of his calve (which proved to be very difficult without Michaelangelo's help), but it was healing nicely despite the haphazard arrangement of the thread from having to sew in such an awkward position. That covered most of his problems.   
  
Comparatively, Leonardo had his dislocated shoulder, of course, and Raphael weak from blood loss. When Don had finished with him, he couldn't help but think of those zombies on television with stitch tracks running every which way.   
  
They didn't even know he was doing this now. He mentioned something to them about salvaging that plane he landed in the field, in which he really had planned doing sooner or later, but this job was more urgent and he knew his brothers would immediately object. 

The rhythmic impact of his shovel continued to lull his mind deeper into the collage of thoughts. 

He hadn't even said good-bye. It constantly bothered Don, though he wasn't sure why. There was no way he could have known that he'd never see his master alive again the day of his and Raphael's capture. 

He felt strangely numb about it all now. Calloused even. He didn't cry. He didn't brood. Didn't hide, thrash, or scream. Just continued doing what need to be done. Keeping busy. 

It was simply how things worked in life. Souls are born, live, and die. As the least spiritual of his brothers, Donatello was okay with that. Another reason he felt he should do this. He considered himself less emotional then the rest, and it was the least he could do. He needed an output to feel useful. 

But if he'd just stayed home with Splinter, maybe he could have…no. Don't start thinking like that. 

Suddenly the shovel clanked as he hit a rock with a cringing scrape. He jumped into the hole and swiped the dirt away, sizing the rock up. It was large. It'd take some effort to remove. He sighed and leaned the shovel against the edge before climbing out. He was due for a break anyway. 

Donatello followed a small footpath shortly to the noisy stream. There, he kneeled and splashed the cool water on his face. Dipping his hands back in, the mud below stirred into galaxy-like swirls. The sparkles in the water framed it like stars. He looked passed the display and met his reflection. The mutant stared. Mud was clouding him over. A fog even, and he felt strangely unattached. 

Don had no reason to blame himself. 

Then…_why did he_?


	11. The Day of No Return, Part 2

Donatello returned home coated with a layer of dust and the shovel slung over his shoulder. It was done. He'd tell Leo, and they could get this burial behind them. And…that was that. 

He lifted the rusty lock on the picket fence and strolled up to the porch, stopping to sit on the swing. He groaned with pleasure and pain at the same time. It wasn't the most comfortable seat, but he'd been digging all morning. It felt good to relax, all the same. 

Just then Raphael came around the corner between the house and barn. He had a stiff step suggesting he was feeling particularly broody today. Not that Don blamed him. Pockets were under his eyes which were blood-shot and dry. His belt and training pads were on, but weapons were absent. 

Don pretended to not even see his brother as he rocked shallowly. The supporting chains dangling from the ceiling squeaking in protest each time he changed the directions. 

Raphael equally ignored his presence. He and Donny rarely talked. In fact, he felt almost uncomfortable seeing his brother just sitting there. Rocking. Not staring at any computer screens, or poking some doodad electronic with a random tool. They'd always counted on Mikey to fill in the conversational gaps. A bitter taste came to his mouth like the aftertaste of vomit as he opened the screen door and stepped inside. He gave extra care that the door might slam in his wake. It did, but he found no satisfaction in it this time. 

The house was stuffy with that certain smell of old wood baking in the afternoon sun. Light cascaded over the wooden window blinds creating stripes on the ground. Tiny bits of fluff drifted serenely in the beams. It was quiet. He didn't like quiet. Raph walked heavily towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge door open. It bounced against the wall with a bang, but quiet crept in once more. He snatched a beer from the lower shelf and plopped on a chair in the neighboring room while flipping the television on. 

"Now, more on a developing story of power outages in Maine-" 

_Click_. 

"You can log onto our website for more details of this product-" 

_Click_. 

Clapping. "Whoooa, whoa whoa! Praise your faith! Allll in your faith, your miiiiiracles!" 

_Click_. 

"Bad boys, bad boys, what cha want? What cha ya gonna do?" 

Raph tossed the remote aside and watched the program "Cops" with mild interest. Anything to stifle the silence. 

The door outside opened and closed. He heard steps directly behind him heading towards the hallway. Raph took a gulp of his beer then reached for the remote, turning the volume down slightly. When a knock echoed, and he automatically muted the television. 

"Leo?" 

Don's voice. 

Another series of knocks. "Leo, it's Don. Will you come out for a minute?" 

A long pause. Leo hadn't left that room as of yet. Not for even for food or the bathroom. Don sighed and retraced his steps, stopping to sit on another chair by Raphael. His brother had un-muted the television by now, not wanting to be subject to the shame of eves-dropping. At least, that's what Splinter had always called it. He halted that thought instantly and concentrated on the show. 

Don gave neither the television nor Raph any interest. Only the floor. Hearing a small noise though, he looked up and nearly fell over in his chair seeing Leonardo. The third turtle stood there looking lost and forlorn, as if he ventured into the room and happened to forget what he came for. 

Raphael glanced over as well, giving a double look before fumbling with the remote. The television cut off in mid-sentence and faded to a black screen. 

"Are you alright?" Donatello spoke first. 

Leo looked over, but didn't say anything. 

Raph decided to try. "You can't keep hiding out like this, Leo." 

It was blunt, but he always talked like that. This was no exception. 

The turtle remained silent. 

Don thought he may as well jump in while their leader was listening. "I, uh, just finished digging the hole," his voice lowered, "for the burial." 

Raph shot his glare from Leo to Don. "Damn it Don, you knew that was something we all had to do." 

Donatello had expected this. He unclasped his hands, letting his elbows rest against his knees. Then shaking his head he added, "You two are in worse shape then I am, and we couldn't have waited much longer." 

"It doesn't matter." 

The two turned back to Leo who had spoken for the first time. 

The leader continued, "We will handle this according to Japanese ritual. He is to be cremated." 

Don's brow furrowed, "But I already-" 

Leo's turn to shake his head. "You should have consulted us first." 

Raph interjected, "He did! Even I heard him pounding on that door at dawn, but you have your head so far up your ass-" 

"Stop it!" Leo snapped, "In the past, you got away with undermining my authority Raph, but I'm in charge now. We're doing this my way. Splinter's way." 

Both brothers were taken aback. 

"Undermining your _authority_?" Raph spat, "What's that suppose to mean?!" 

Don didn't like where this was going it all. He thought it would have been a collective agreement that they cared for Splinter how most people did it here in America. Lower him below the ground where he could find peace in the wilderness, and where they could visit him often. It was a perfect environment for mediation and thought in behalf of their master. He assumed wrong apparently. Don personally found the Japanese traditions strange and unnecessary. To him, they seemed to mourn the ashes rather then decease's existence. Another culture clash he wasn't in the mood to argue this time. 

Leo's eyes flashed dangerously, "I won't repeat myself. We'll do it tonight at sundown." 

Leonardo left no room for argument and returned to the bedroom. 

"The _hell_?" Raph whispered under his breath turning forward again in his seat. 

Don looked worried. "He's just taking it hard-" 

"So what, he's our replacement sensei now? Splinter Junior?" Raph scoffed and flipped the television back on. 

This discussion was obviously over. 

Donatello stood, his muscles screaming in protest. All that work for nothing. He headed directly for the bathroom to shower for tonight.

* * *

The light was a hazy gray all around as the sun silently stole away. 

Together, the three brothers carried the body wrapped in sheets from the hay rafters where they had safely stored it over night. It was difficult at first with their wounds, but each adjusted the weight to who could handle what. Raph and Don took most of it as Leo could only use one arm. 

After a slow march, the body was placed gently in an old and abandoned cement watering trough once used for cattle. Leo lifted a stray corner of the sheet where it had fallen, and covered a lifeless cheek. 

They all kneeled, Leonardo at the head, Don and Raph to the sides. Seeing that they were all settled and waiting, Leo slid his voice into a Buddhist chant spoken in Japanese. He formed the language quick and fluid, slicing in a soothing rhythm similar to a heartbeat. 

_Thrum-dum. Thrum-dum. Thrum-dum_. 

Raphael and Donatello would chorus occasionally or speak a stanza. It was all practiced and orderly, as they often began mediation with the same collection of mantras. It was a detailed praise to life, loved ones, and inner strength. 

When it ended, Leo opened his eyes, as did his brothers. He gave a shallow nod and they stood formally. Raphael centered Splinter's old cane on top of the body while Donatello struck a match. He hesitantly brought the small flame closer knowing this is the last he would physically see his master. This was his good-bye. A brown spot grew steadily on the sheet soon caving into black ashes. It spread quickly, consuming the corpse in a massive fire. 

The brothers watched, eyes alight. Raph trembled, clenching and unclenching a fist. Don looked to be trapped in another pensive trance, eyes locked in place. Leo was blank and neutral. They stared so long the light seemed to warp. The wind picked up suddenly, thrashing at the now dieing flames. In the sky's sigh, each felt rather then heard a voice deep within. 

"_Think not of me. Find your brother. Find happiness._"

* * *

Michaelangelo clutched his knees, huddled in a black corner. He was no longer in that god-awful box, but a prison coated with moldy straw and dust. A salty tear slid down his face, stinging an array of wounds as it traveled down. 

Something had woken him. A strange dream. His brothers had been far apart calling to each other in separate planes of his mind. Mike was running, fumbling, groping. He yelled toward them, but they continued searching. Didn't they see him here? So close! Panic surged and he screamed. Suddenly he was falling into a terrifying abyss of nothing. Not down, but plummeting in every direction all at once. An abrupt flash, and he was standing alone. A hand caressed his shoulder. He turned behind, seeing a man. He was short and muscular, obviously of Japanese decent. Yet, Mike did not know him. The stranger seemed to have materialized out of nothing as did his empty surroundings. 

"_Be strong," the man said in Japanese, "Honor will defend you._"   
  
**

-END OF PART ONE-

**   
  
Thank you all for your comments and critiques! They've been immensely encouraging and helpful. I don't think this would have been doable without you. As an extra thank you, I've begun making illustrations of this story for your viewing pleasure. Unfortunately, I can't post the link here without breaking another outlandish rule. So if you're interested, please send a review or e-mail mentioning it and I'd be happy to send them. More illustrations and Part Two will be available very soon =) 


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